


You Don't Care About Me

by iknownothing



Category: Ferris Bueller's Day Off (1986)
Genre: Best pairing, Gah- I need a Cameron, M/M, Slash addict here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:04:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iknownothing/pseuds/iknownothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Yeah, listen I have to talk to you."</p>
<p>"About?"</p>
<p>"Something you said today."</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Don't Care About Me

**Author's Note:**

> You know what I love?
> 
> This pairing.
> 
> This story has gotten some love on Fanfic, but it's a needy bitch.
> 
> Or, am I the needy bitch?

You don't care about me.

The words ran through my mind as I laid in bed, listening to the sound of my parent's footsteps on the stairs.

You don't care about me.

They were on hyperspeed, slow motion, warp drive, and stand still as I contemplated them beneath my blanket. They stood out against the black backdrop of my eyelids as I tried to get some sleep.

You don't care about me.

They were all I could think about, but what the hell did they mean?

Part of me wanted to write them off as more of Cameron's sulky word waterfall, that constant flow of discontent words that ran from his mouth every hour of every day. And yet, another part of me noted the tone of his voice, the tilt of his chin as he relayed the gloomy message. There was something there, something that was lacking in all his other complaints.

Something that told me this just might have been serious.

As the night wore on I tossed and turned in my bed.

You don't care about me.

How could my best friend, my longest friend, think I didn't care? I had done lots of things to show him I cared! I had humored him when he was 'sick', taken him on some wild adventures, lots of things! I couldn't believe he would even consider that I didn't care!

I did care! I did! I cared a lot, a lot more than anybody thought! I cared for him more than I cared for Jeanie sometimes! He was my everything, my partner in crime, the one person I could always count on! He was always there for me, I was always there for him, that's how it had always been.

Had I been though?

It wasn't hard, as I stared forlornly at my ceiling, to catalogue the times I hadn't cared. Like when I took his dad's Ferrari without asking, without thinking of retribution. Or, when I had left him in the museum to go kiss Sloane, left him to stand and stare at the same painting for nearly an hour.

And that had just been today.

It made my stomach twist to remember these things for two reasons:

1.) I was a horrible friend

2.) I hadn't even enjoyed kissing Sloane

It came to me in a very earth shattering revelation, but felt like I had been thinking it for a long time. Maybe I had been, subconciously. Maybe, all along, I hab been thinking this earth shattering thought, but repressing it.

I had never liked kissing Sloane.

I had always kind of imagined kissing Cameron instead.

You don't care about me.

Don't I though?

I couldn't help but think, as the words flashed through my mind again, that I cared a lot more than Cameron cared to think. I cared about everything, every word and every action. I cared about his dark hair and his bright blue eyes and his shitty home and his shitty parents. I cared about every nuance in his tone every change in his facial expressions every single sound he made.

I cared for every damn breath he took.

But I'd been too blind to see it, too blind to see past my own damn nose. I'd been too blind to realize that I cared for something besides having fun and myself.

You don't care about me.

I had to show him. I had to show him that I cared.

It was nearly midnight when I threw the covers off of my body and slid out of bed. The floor was cold on my barefeet as I tugged my shoes on and headed down the stairs. As quietly as possible I eased the door open and stepped into the cool night air.

Only when I was outside did I realize that I had no way of getting to Cameron's house. I debated on going back inside and calling him in the morning. He could understand in the morning just as well as he could understand at night.

I started walking.

You don't care about me.

I started walking faster, faster and faster, until I was running. I ran for as long as I could possibly run, a lot longer than I assumed was possible, but soon I was back to panting and limping along. I had a stitch in my side that was throbbing and telling me this wasn't worth it.

You don't care about me.

It was.

I kept walking.

It took an hour, maybe even more, because I walked slow and pondered what I was about to do. The moon was bright when I finally reached the familiar house and peered in the window. Cameron was asleep, that glowing ball thing casting an odd light on his face. He looked happy, happier than I'd ever seen him, and I hated to ruin that.

A few more minutes of watching and I knocked on the window. He stirred but it took another bout of knocking to wake him up. I watched as his face went from asleep to wary in a few seconds, his eyes darting to the window. I prayed, a little too late, that he could tell who it was.

"Ferris?" He opened the window, stared at me, and I squirmed my way inside.

"Yeah, listen I have to talk to you."

"About?"

"Something you said today."

He looked at me, eyes suspicious, and I knew he was thinking back to the day, reviewing every single thing that had left his mouth. Cameron was surprisingly good at figuring things out, especially me, so it was no surprise when he came up with the answer.

"Are you referring to when I said you don't care about me?" He asked and I nodded. He sighed and his hair, messed up by sleep, hugged his fingers as he ran his hand through it. He didn't know what to say, I could read him too, and something was bothering him but he didn't know how to say it.

I tried to say it for him.

"I know it seems like I don't but I swear, Cameron, I-"

"Prove it." There was a hard look in his eyes like he was expecting something more than he thought I could give and I could only stare at him.

"What do you-"

"Prove it, Ferris, prove it."

I could read him but not well enough to react. He stared at me and I stared at him and finally he sighed again. He shook his head, he tilted it a little, he studied me and then, then, he kissed me.

And it was soft and gentle and when he pulled back he was smiling. It was a sad smile, a hesitant smile, and I smiled back stronger to prove that it was ok.

"If you care about me, you won't tell anyone about that."

I laughed softly because that was the funniest thing he'd ever said and leaned in just to kiss him again before whispering into his ear.

"Then I must not care about you, because I want to tell everyone about that."

You don't care about me.

I cared about Cameron Frye more than anyone could possibly know. I was just glad I'd finally realized it.


End file.
